Runaway
by Peppermint Smile
Summary: Ryan Evans is getting sick of being ordered around and being made fun of for his sexuality, and is finally pushed too far. Troyella and Tryan slash. PERMANENTLY UNFINISHED. Copyright 2007 Peppermint Smile.
1. Chapter 1: An Average Day

_A new day, a new story. I have never written a slash before, and with all these High School Musical 2 things going about (eep, I am sooo excited!), I felt like popping out another story. I normally hate it when people call Ryan gay; but the truth is, I just hate it when they call Lucas gay (HE IS PERFECTLY STRAIGHT, PEOPLE). Also, gay couples are the cutest - So I decided to write my first slash. __**R&R!!!!**_

It's the same every day. I get up, I get ordered around, I go to school, I get ordered around, I come home from school, I get ordered around some more, I do my homework, and then I go to bed. End of story, the end. I can't really say I'm not used to it, since it's been happening since the third grade. But then, somehow I still get bitter every single time I get brushed aside by my twin sister. I never breathe of word of my true feelings, of course; but it does get to you after awhile. If every single day every single person in your high school "accidentally" bumps you against lockers, "accidentally" knocks your books out of your hands, all the while muttering words like "queer", "gay freak", "fruitcake", and "faggot", you might understand why I can be a little depressed at times.

Day after day, week after week, month after month, you begin to feel like a robot, just going through the motions of your program. For instance, my afternoon from the moment I leave school is already planned out. Step One: run the five miles home from school while Sharpay drives. Step Two: take her backpack for her at the door while she handles the keys to the house. Step Three: pop hot pockets into the microwave and fish homework out of both backpacks. Step Four: hand Sharpay her hot pocket before proceeding to carry both backpacks up to your room. Step Five: complete both you and your twin's homework before you parents come home. Step Six: help your mother fix dinner. Step Seven: eat exactly half of your dinner, insisting that you must watch your weight. Step Eight: if you have any dance, voice, or acting lesson to go to, make post haste there. Step Nine: without having to be told by your mother, take out the garbage and recycling to the curb and wash all the dishes. Step Ten: change into jogging clothes, let yourself out of the house, and run two more miles. Step Eleven: let yourself into the house, lock up the house, and turn on the alarm. Step Twelve: take a very silent shower, being sure not to wake up your sleeping family. Final Step: get into bed and go directly to sleep; no TV or reading allowed whatsoever. And there you have it; a typical evening with Ryan Evans.

What I'm trying to say is there was absolutely nothing abnormal about the morning of May 25, the last day of school. I woke up at 6 o'clock and slipped downstairs quieter than an Indian on the hunt. I grabbed an apple from the refrigerator and my pill jar from the pantry. Filling a glass with water from the faucet, I downed four pills and placed the clear glass carefully into the dishwasher. Turning off the house alarm, I scuttled out the backdoor.

Early morning in my absolute favorite time of day for one reason; hardly any noises. No loud neighbors shouting across their lawns, no silly music stereos blasting vulgar rap songs, and most of all; no family members yelling at you to run errands for them. It's just you and nature, all by yourselves as the town of Albuquerque slowly begins to wake up. As always, I began my two mile run around the neighborhood and set my stopwatch; trying to cut back yesterday's time.

Panting a harder than a fat kid on cake, I checked my watch when my feet hit the front porch. 9:56. Swearing under my breath at my slow legs, I breathed deeply, knowing I had pressed myself extremely hard this morning. I pressed my ear against the front door before I opened it. The family was not yet awake; a very good sign. Slipping in, I whisked upstairs directly into the shower. For once I would have liked to leave my hair alone; just let the natural curls reign free. But no—that would never be allowed. It was out of the ordinary. I combed my hair and slipped into nice black pants and a pressed, baby blue t-shirt. Sharpay loved it when I wore blue shirts; she said it brought out my eyes. I tugged on a white newsboy cap with brown sides, and stared into my own eyes. My pale, crystal blue eyes were and are, I believe, my finest feature. And the only thing of mine my twin sister had _ever _wanted. Sharpay hated anything _plain_, even so far as brown eyes.

A stirring from the room down the hall awakened me to my surroundings. I hastily left the bathroom and crossed to my bedroom once again. Double-checking that all of mine and my sister's homework was completed, I packed up my messenger bag. Setting Sharpay's homework (written in her own hand) stacked neatly by her door, I descended the stairs. I checked the clock in the hallway. I had enough time to walk leisurely to school, for I hated being late. Whistling to myself at the joy of being so perfectly on time, I opened the front door and locked it behind me. I had completed my morning rituals in precisely 25 minutes and had not come face to face with a single one of my family members.

But once I reached my high school, my high spirits dampened with reality. Any named Wildcat could care less is Ryan Evans was on time for school. Not one of them would have noticed if I had suddenly dropped dead during a number in drama; I suspect the janitor would have tried sweeping me into a dust bin before realizing I was a human being. School is an extremely depressing business, and I made my usual wish I'd never been born as I pushed open the swinging doors of East High.

At once, trouble started. Brett Hanes had spotted me on the horizon and artistically ran into me the moment my sneakers touched the tile.

"Oh, sorry about that, fag," he laughed as I face-planted into the ground. "I didn't notice you there." He kicked my binder across the floor. "My bad." Chortling with his oh-so-clever friends, he sauntered on his way as I repacked the homework and school books I had so patiently packed earlier that morning. Not saying a single word, I picked myself up and carried on my way to Mrs. Darbus's room; my sanctuary in the midst of devils. My Hiding Place during the Holocaust. My Underground Railroad during the Civil War. My shining star in the midst of a hurricane.

"Sounds depressing," you say. You have absolutely no idea. I suppose you are thinking my now that my medication is probably for depression. Actually, it's not; but thanks for the suggestion. A reason why I get depressed so easily might be my condition, if you want to call it that. Though nobody at East High besides the teachers and Sharpay knows it, I have epilepsy. Basically, at any given time in the right circumstances, I can have a seizure. That is, unless I take my medication. My only weakness is strobe lights. I absolutely hate those things; meds or no meds, I am almost certain to have to seizure because of those wicked lights. That's while you'll never catch me at a music concert; I don't feel like risking me keeling over because of a light show or some other stupid reason. Epilepsy is so annoying sometimes.

Though I am very glad no one knows about my secret weakness, it does have it downsides. A popular example is when Troy Bolton, Chad Danforth, and such people invite me to a rock concert. I am running out of witty excuses to as why I can't come, but they are most definitely getting suspicious. I can survive more teasing as just as long as they don't ever find out. I can survive through pretty much anything by now.

The high point of my entire day was drama class. There I could be whoever I want to be without worrying about concealing too much. Of course I did not allow the comfort of the stage to put me off my guard; I've had that happen far too much as it was. Instead, I contented myself with sitting loyally behind my sister and letting her decide what we would do for that day; it made life far less complicated. But today, Mrs. Darbus's words froze my blood.

"Seeing as how today is our final day here, I thought I might make things a little _fun._" Scary as Darbus's version of fun was, it was the next sentence that chilled me to the bone. "We are going to step off the stage are into the shoes of a technological assistant!" Oh sweet lord. That meant... "I will be splitting the class into three groups; one for the sound booth, one for backstage control, and one for the light system." The light system. How could she even consider for one moment letting high school boys play with electricity? As if they would act mature and responsible and control the spotlight as they could. Considering Mrs. Darbus was old as dinosaurs, how had she learned nothing of the behavior of typical high school boys? Merely one look at their mischievous faces would have tipped you off. Plus this being the last day of school, the thoughts of what might happen were horrendous.

Then my mind cleared. I only had one objective; not to be on the sound or light team. Please let me work backstage, please let me work backstage…

"…and Ryan Evans will be apart of our sound system crew." Great. Just great. Thank you Mrs. Darbus! With loud whoops and hollers, 7th block Drama crossed down the hallway into the auditorium, ready to begin their demolition. I immediately established myself in the farthest place away from the noise and lights; in the far left corner of the humongous room. My only hope was not to be noticed.

"Ryan!" Of course, the Darbus menace would reign supreme. "Don't sit there and let all of your peers do the work for you! Get up and help!" Glares from my fellow students assured me that their opinion of me was exactly the same as our drama teacher's. "Mr. Evans!" Groaning, I pushed myself to my feet and walked as slowly as was humanly possible to the sound booth.

"Hey, look at this!" Brett's jeer rang loud as he flickered the lights on and off. On and off. On and off. On and off.

"Mr. Hanes, please cease flickering the lights! Mr. Hanes!" Mr. Hanes was planning to get as much pleasure as he could from playing with the lights before Darbus could land a detention on his head. On and off. On and off. On and off.

My hands began to vibrate. I clutched them in desperation, and squeezed my eyes as tight as I could. It was no good; I had known it would not be. Both my arms began to shake, I could still see the lights through my eyelids. On and off. On and off. On and off.

My willpower broke. I sprinted from the sound booth and ran pell-mell out into the hallway. I collapsed against the cool wall, and breathed deeply, trying to stop my spasms. My eyes remained firmly closed. I allowed the regularity of the white school lights to calm my contracting muscles. Curled up in a miserable little ball, I waited patiently. The first warning of a seizure had come and gone; but no full-blown seizure seemed to be coming. Still, I figured I should drop by the nurse and lie down for awhile; I didn't feel like taking chances.

Clicks of high heels against tile flooring rang in my ears. I still did not open my eyes, but I didn't need to; I already knew who was lording over me.

"Mr. Evans, this is inexcusable." Seizures were inexcusable? But then, she hadn't known that I was having spasms. Such is the cost of secrecy. "First you try to skip work by hiding in a corner of the auditorium, and now you try to escape into the hallway." Escape was certainly a good word for the situation. "If you keep this up, I may have to give you detention. Now mind you, I don't want to-" sometimes being a teacher's pet did come in handy "-but I will. Understood?"

"Mrs. Darbus, may I please go to the nurse? I am really feeling quite ill." Only by my truly green face was I able to escape another lecture about trying to cut class. She wrote me a pass to the nurse before storming back inside the room to try and control her class. Good luck with that.

I pushed myself up with the help of the wall. My head whirled, and I leaned against it again for support, closing my eyes. Inside the sound booth had been too close a call…far too close. Sighing again, I opened my eyes and walked slowly over to the nurse's office.

Mrs. Garza and I had become good friends over the years. She was one of the few staff members that knew about my epilepsy, and she let my lie down on a cot in the back of her office until school ended. I made my way back to my locker and packed up backpack. For the first time in at least a month, I stuffed my sneakers in there as well; I was not allowed to run the five miles home after I had had a seizure. Or, in this case, the first stage of a seizure.

To cut my time in half, I took a shortcut through the locker room hallway to get outside.

"Hey Evans!" Occupied with my thoughts about the almost-seizure, I had completely forgotten about Brett and Craig. _Terrific_.

"Hey Evans!" I barely ducked in time to miss the kick aimed at my head. "I called your name; and I'm expecting you to answer!" Five others knuckle-cracking, bulky, muscular football players hulked over their shoulders. _Holy lord;_ he had brought out the entire gang for the occasion.

Walking backward, they had succeeded in cornering me at the far back of the school. I _really_ wasn't in the mood for this; especially after having spasms earlier. And it was the last day of school, for Pete's sake. Did they ever give it a rest? I answered my own question as Craig lunged at me. Evidently not.

I swung my backpack at his head, managing to alter his directions. My messenger bag was my only shield when it came to beat-up-the-gay-guy time. I wielded it left and right, creating a small ring around myself. But I knew it wouldn't hold them off for long. The dunderheads finally figured that if all seven of them jumped me at once that I couldn't smack them all with my weenie backpack. Brett motioned his buddies with a nod, and they attacked. I punched, I swore, and I kicked them all in the face at least once with my blessedly flexibly legs. But I was in pretty poor shape when Chad and Troy arrived on the scene.

Now, you have to understand something about Chad Danforth and Troy Bolton. They are very nice guys, and try to give everyone a chance. But they are also very uptight about things like, for instance, gay people. They turn into complete homophobes if my arm brushes against there's; as if my own desires might rub off on them. Who knows what they think. It was highly out of their comfort zone when they came to my—I guess you could use the word "rescue"—on the last day of the school year. Troy and Chad slugged their way through the mob, and somehow managed to break of the fist fight. I sat on the ground at their feet, feeling like a helpless baby on the steps of an orphanage. _What a ridiculous wimp I must look like_, I thought to myself.

When I risked glancing up at their faces, I could in that instance that they had not known it was me they were saving. They had just seen seven guys ganging up on one smaller guy, and decided to be local heroes and save the victim from his suffering. If they had known it was me…well, I don't know what they would have done. After a long, long silence, Troy spoke.

"I'd never thought you'd sink this low, Brett. Seven of y'all against one kid! What kinds of odds are those?" The rest of the conversation I did not listen to, as it did not involve me at all. Chad and Troy kept on scolding the boys on teaming up against on person while I, the ignored, queer victim, swung my backpack over my should and continued on my way to Sharpay's car. She would absolutely furious at me for being late; plus the fact that blood from my cut arm and eyebrow might stain the leather seats.

I dumped my backpack into the backseat of her convertible, and looked around for my sister. Contrary to tradition, she was running around school, hugging all of her best friends "goodbye". All across the courtyard couples and friends and buddies were hugging and passing around phone numbers and email addresses. I sat in the car and waited.

"What's the matter, Ryan? No one you want to say goodbye to? Not even your precious _boyfriend_?" I blinked up at Brett; the sun was in my eyes.

"Yes, as I a matter of fact." With speed surprising to Brett, I climbed halfway out of the car just far enough to kiss him directly on the cheek. He drew back with a loud sound of disgust, and wiped his cheek.

"See you later, sunshine." Faking to vomit, the football captain's face twitched with revulsion as he stalked away towards his people.

I laughed to myself. Revenge was sweet and rare, but I took it whenever I got the chance. I had a talent for making the best out of bad situations, and reveled in my small victories; it is small victories than will win you a war.

_**So, what'd you think??**_


	2. Chapter 2: Troubles

_Sorry it took me so long to repost! I really have to be in the right mood to write this story, and I did have it written for a long time and kept on debating whether or not to change it._

**crushie- **yes, I'm afraid Ryan does sound kind of poor and helpless, but that's not really true (in my mind, at any rate). He isn't helpless; just powerless, if you get my gist. He's not the kind of guy to feel sorry for himself, at any rate

**:-D**- thank you for the comment :) i hope you enjoy it

**SoraElric- **thank you for the advice. i am EXTREMELY slow when it comes to these things, and always need people to straighten me out :) thanks again!

**TheNinaBob- **i'm glad you like it!!!! i myself was very fond of this story, and its not finished yet, and i dont really plan on giving it up. Beyond was just getting too boring for me, haha

* * *

Spluttering as I came up, I wiped the chlorine water out of my eyes. Seeing as how Troy was the lifeguard at the pool at my parents' country club, Sharpay was just dying to go swimming. Of course, when she said _swimming_, she didn't mean splashing about in the water. _Swimming _consisted of lying on a beach chair trying to tan in her small bikini. Unluckily for Shar, she is like me in the way that she doesn't tan; she burns. We have both learned to apply liberal amounts of sunscreen (or suntan lotion for her) before we go out on scorching summer days.

It was reaching the end of the day. Gabriella was talking to Troy over the small fence around the pool's perimeter; urging him to hurry up and leave. Chad had already climbed down from his post, as Taylor was also waiting for him outside the fence. After all, only about four people were still in the pool, and I was the only one in the deep end. Troy refused point blank to leave his perch, but still chatted away with Gabbi.

On her way over to recapture Troy's attention, Sharpay's favorite ring slipped from her finger in her haste. I, of course, was ordered to swim down to the bottom and get it (big rings drop fast). Annoying enough, it had fallen directly down into the grate in the deepest part of the deep end. I dug my hand around in there until my fingers closed about the ring. I was about to swim up to the surface when something yanked violently on my arm. Looking down, I saw that my hand was stuck inside the grate.

I twisted and turned; trying to squeeze it through. No good. Apologizing to Sharpay in my head, I let go of the bulky ring and tried to pull my hand free again. But it was still wedged tight in the grate. I yanked and tugged and pushed and grunted and struggled, but it would simply not come free. My lungs began to burn for need of air. Couldn't they see me thrashing around down here? Evidently not, as still nobody came to my assistance. I felt like my lungs were going to explode. I need air! I began to see black dots in front my eyes as my attempts to free myself became feebler and feebler. I was going to kill Troy B. for making a fool of me this way. Unconscientiously, I inhaled a large gulp of water. My waterlogged head spun, and I remembered no more.

**I WAS CHATTING **with Gabriella when Sharpay screamed bloody murder behind me; I practically jumped out of my skin.

"Ryan's been under the water for over three minutes!" she yelled, pointing at the deep end. "And his longest time is not even two and a half! He's not coming up!" My own eyes scanned the water. My heart almost stopped when I saw Ryan floating eerily right above the pool floor.

I knew my duty. I dived into the water and swam as fast as I humanly could down to Ryan. I at once saw the problem; his hand was wedged in the grate. After three tries, I managed to yank his hand out. But I had to use both my hands with my feet pushing against the floor, and I head a crack—I correctly guessed that I had broken his thumb.

I shoved Ryan to the water's edge before myself surfacing. To my unrestricted horror, he wasn't breathing. I pushed myself onto the pavement and pulled the dancer up after me, laying him on the pavement face-up. My ears burned with the thought of what I needed to do.

Taking a big gulp of air, I put my lips against his and exhaled while pressing down on his chest with my hands folded properly. Four times I repeated CPR before Ryan started to cough up blood and water. I helped him sit up; just relieved to see him breathing again. My hand trembled for some reason beyond me when I touched his bare shoulder. It was most likely the thought of what Sharpay would have done to me had I let her dancing partner drown.

Out of the blue, anger began to boil in my veins. "CHAD!" I roared, stomping furiously over to him. "Why did you leave your post at the deep end? **Ryan could have ****drowned** if Sharpay hadn't been paying attention! And what if **I** hadn't been on duty?!" My entire body shook with suppressed rage.

"Troy, just calm down!" Gabbi said, looking bewildered as to why I was so mad. But I was not ready to calm down.

"How can you be so calm? A high schooler just almost died because Chad was being lazy…and because you were distracting me on the job!"

Now I had done it. Gabbi put her hands on her hips. "It's not my fault you're so talkative when you're supposed to be working!"

"And you _told_ me I could go ahead and leave!" Chad protested in his defense. "Seriously, dude; stop freaking out"

I breathed a long, cleansing breath. I couldn't myself explain why I had gotten so fired up…it's just seeing Ryan Evans lying there on the pavement, lingering between life and death, not moving...it had scared me! And I was not easily scared. I looked back at Chad, Gabbi, and now Taylor (she had finally joined us). They were staring at me like I had lobsters crawling out my ears. My lips burned, and I realized another reason why they were staring—I had basically _kissed_ Ryan. Who was homosexual. Subconsciously, I remembered how soft his lips had felt against mine, and how my head had leapt to see him breathing again.

But no; I was straight! I was perfectly straight, thank you very much, and happily dating Gabriella. This was ridiculous. And I told Chad and Gabriella just that. It took a lot of convincing, but in the long run they got the drift that my sexuality wasn't changing any time in the near present.

At last we left the pool; by the time we finished arguing it was closing time. My arm once again wrapped around Gabbi, I glanced over my shoulder. Ryan had once more vanished from sight without leaving as much as a footprint behind. He has a talent for making himself invisible wherever he goes to the point where you might be five inches away from him and not know it.

My brain seemed to be stuck on Ryan that anything; anything I saw reminded me of him. When we drove past an ice cream parlor I thought of how he would his sister's wishes and order the highest calorie item on the menu and wolf it down long before the girls had finished their baby cones. And yet he managed to stay in perfect shape and skinnier than an anorexic cat. We drove by a dance studio, and I thought about how perfect he looked dancing next to Sharpay, and how the stage light glistened in his crystal blue eyes.

What was I thinking? Here was a beautiful girl relaxing in my arms and my eyes were on some guy in my drama class. I don't know why, but I began to compare Ryan and Gabriella in my mind. He was blonde with blue eyes; she was brown with brown eyes. They were both short; Gabriella a little shorter. His skin was pale; hers was ivory. His smile was innocent; her smile was flirtatious. He was honest; she was conniving. He was sweet; she was strong-minded. He was mysterious; she left nothing unknown. He was adorable; she was pretty. Maybe that was what scared me the most—Ryan was winning.

Of course, I did not give anybody a whiff of what was going through my mind. The radio was blaring the entire ride home, so they took my silence to be the silence of one enjoying a song. I didn't bother to correct them; it was all to confusing to explain for me, much less to explain to them.

And then we were at the Evans'; Sharpay had invited us all over for a party. She unlocked the door and clapped on the lights.

"Ryan?!" she bellowed, making everyone over their ears. A familiar face poked his head over the railing. My heart bounced off my ribs. Now why had it done that? "Come on down here and pop us some popcorn, will ya? Make yourself useful!" He rolled his eyes and slid down the railing with surprising grace. Then again, when was Ryan being graceful a surprise? You could almost say it was expected of him. At any rate, I seemed to be the only one to notice this as Chad, Taylor, and Gabriella trooped behind Sharpay to the living room. While Taylor and Gabbi browsed through the DVDs, Sharpay yelled out more orders to Ryan, including to put dinner in the microwave, clean up the kitchen, and to make sure start the load of laundry.

At last the girls settled on watching "Moulin Rouge", even though we knew it would make us all depressed. With the movie covering our voices and Ryan out of the room, we commenced in school gossip. After awhile, the conversation wound around to the awkward twin himself.

"That kid is such a burden," Sharpay grumbled, yawning idly, "and he knows it. I try to make him useful about the house, but all he ever does is complain. I just wish he would disappear for a day or something so I could get a school experience without him at my elbow. He's just **so annoying!**" The rest of the gang grumbled their agreement, adding in their own view of how pointless Ryan's existence at our school was. For once, I kept my mouth shut.

But of course, Sharpay noticed my silence. "Come on Troy; aren't you going to vent your feelings with the rest of us? It won't leave this circle." Everyone nodded their heads to prove her point. I sighed and took a large gulp of my Mountain Dew.

"I guess it's just the fact that he is so absolutely queer that makes him so awkward," I said slowly, forming my words carefully. "In my opinion, it's weird to the point where it is almost impossible to carry on a conversation." The approval I got my friends egged me on to say more. "I just want to run away from him sometimes, I swear! Faggots are so un-human sometimes!"

The clatter of a bowl hitting the ground made all of us jump in our seats. I turned in my chair to see a red and blue bowl lying in shards on the kitchen tile, the buttery and salty popcorn spilled all over the place. A backdoor slammed. Ryan had heard it all.

My stomach sunk about fifteen inches. I was surprised the group didn't notice how much my cheeks were burning. Sharpay swore loudly and quickly swept up the broken bits and put them in the trashcan. Chad and I "took care" of the _dirty_ popcorn.

The rest of the evening was uneventful, except for when the backdoor clicked closed five hours later and I caught a glimpse of Ryan bolting up the stairs. Chad snorted into his virgin margarita (Sharpay provided good snacks). His snort sounded something surprisingly like "queer freak". Why was he being such a jerk all of a sudden? I thought briefly of discussing this with Gabbi, but the words stopped on my tongue when I saw her giggle and nod. Had the whole world gone insane…or was it _me_ that had gone cuckoo?

It was a sleepover party. The girls slept in the game room while the boys were put in the game room (Mr. and Mrs. Evans were paranoid that somebody might have sex or something). Mrs. Evans whipped up a delicious batch of pancakes before leaving for her week.

Twenty minutes later, Sharpay stormed up the stares to wake Ryan, and Chad immediately plunged into how Sharpay was actually kind of cool.

"I had thought before she was too much of a wimp, but after what she said about her own twin, I changed my mind"

I almost glared at him—keyword being _almost_. Why did he keep on changing the subject back to that tender topic? Was nobody getting the vibe that this was pretty much my least favorite thing to discuss right now?

Graciously, the topic drifted over to planning a shopping expedition for that afternoon. We were laughing about going into Alta to buy Chad more combs when Sharpay flew down the stairs, nearly tripping over her feet in her hurry. We stared at her curiously; but not for long. She at once told us what had her in a flurry.

"RYAN'S GONE!"

There was a long pause.

"…Gone?" Gabriella asked blankly. "Like for tutoring or something?" Sharpay shook her head furiously.

"NO—AS IN **COMPLETELY **GONE! RYAN HAS RUN AWAY!"

"Sharpay, calm down," Chad began, helping her to sit down in a chair. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"When he went up to his room last night after being outside for so long," she said after a shuddery breath. "And I haven't heard a peep out his room since. God, he might be anywhere! He might get raped!"

We couldn't help but snort at this. "Raped? Ryan? Sharpay, he's a high school boy. Relax"

"It happened before, you know…" Sharpay said quietly, but it shut up the group fast than any of her death yells. "Ryan's run away from home three times already; the second time coming back with bruises all along his arms and collarbone"

"But he's-"

"Exactly. I never said it was a woman who did the deed." My stomach heaved. _Raped? _By a man? It was the most repulsing thought my mind could handle at the moment. And yet my mind was already jam-packed as it was; crammed with thoughts about life around Albuquerque without Ryan around. Without his glorious blue eyes, flawless skin, powerful tenor voice, and adorable dance moves. WHAT THE HELL WAS MY MIND TALKING ABOUT? Even my damn mind was working against me. My body was throwing a conspiracy. My brain wouldn't think of anything other than what eye-candy Ryan was, my mouth wouldn't talk about how none of this was a big deal, my hands wouldn't unclench from a fist, and my pants were suddenly very tight and restricting at the thought of Ryan's bare collarbone and THIS WAS COMPLETELY RIDICULOUS! _I am not gay,_ I kept on repeating to myself. _I am not gay. I am not gay. I am not gay. I am not gay. I don't think I am gay. There is no way I can be gay. I don't think I'm gay. Could I be gay? Am I gay? Good God, I'm turning gay. No—focus on boobs. You like boobs._ Despite at all my tries to cram my brain full of Chad's porn magazines, it all seemed so disgusting now. Everything about women suddenly appeared as annoying and nauseating.

How could I hold so many feelings at once? Nausea, lust, pleasure, worry, hatred, revulsion, confusion, anxiety—talk about identity crisis. I was a million times in debt to Gabriella when she grasped my hand for support. I needed her here, now, to anchor me back to the real me. But what was the real me anymore? How many more questions was this summer going to hold?

As this mob of thoughts lay siege on my brain, Sharpay and the others had finished calling the police to inform them of the missing soon-to-be senior. Where was Ryan, anyways? How far could you get in one night?

**I ONLY BEGAN **to have second thoughts about running away when I checked into the hotel in San Francisco. Yes, the one in California. California was always the dream place in my mind; where "odd" people where accepted, the beach was ready at hand, no annoying strobe lights, no bullies—where I might actually go _unnoticed_. Unnoticed; what a sacred word. It was a dream I had been longing for longer than my dream of becoming a Broadway star (and trust me; that's a long time ago).

But now…staring around me and the sorry, crummy remains of a building that had the nerve to claim to be a hotel that surrounded me, I began the nasty habit of freaking out. Not only had I forgotten to take my meds for the night, I had not brought any meds for the next few weeks! This might prove to be a sticky situation. Brownie points to me.

Throwing my messenger bag on the creaky cot, I fished around in my wallet until I found the scrap of paper with a phone number scrawled across it. Looting through my pocket, I pulled out my cell phone and wandered around the room for ten minutes before discovering a hotspot. At last I called the number of the only agent I had ever met; Walter Kronisky.

It took one and a half hours of convincing, but at last I pried a name out of Walter; the name of a curious talent scout wandering around town, ready for business. I was given his phone number and put on hold for forty-five minutes before speaking to the scout. Another one and I half hours and I had a restaurant, directions, and time. Despite my normally pessimistic view, things began to look up.

**I GULPED DOWN** a large mouthful of white wine at table four as I waited for my possible star to show up. I double-checked my watch. He still had two minutes left before he would be late. I was not disappointed; Mr. Ryan Evans showed up precisely as my fossil watch read 7:30. He was a lot younger looking then I had expected, with baby chub still clinging to his cheeks, but the old who can play young always brings good business. Excellent; this kid actually had potential.

We carried on light, but serious conversation for longer than I had expected—but not so long as to annoy me. I became so enthralled by his soft, gentle voice that I hardly noticed when my favorite band—Eight Broken Strings—took the stage.

"Enough of these business matters," I said finally, taking a final swig of my drink. "It is time to enjoy ourselves. Here is my card; please call me during the next week between 3 and 8 o'clock in the afternoon." He smiled; obviously pleased our first meeting had gone so well. I was happy as well; my boss would surely be pleased with such obvious talent. "Do stay on, though, and join in watching one of the best rock bands in California"

To my great surprise, he gulped nervously. "_Rock_ band?" I stared at him.

"What's the matter; you do not like rock music?"

"Oh no, I do—"

"Then I do not see what the problem is." Mr. Evans looked very distressed about something, but said no more. I did not press the matter, as the first song began to blare from the speakers. Every time I glanced back at my potential client, he turned paler and paler but smiled reassuringly back. I knew that I was not harming him by making him stay to listen; it would do these kids good to get a taste of the real stuff.

To my unending delight, they had a special treat for us; a light show. A rare happenstance with Eight Broken Strings, but I was glad; surely in his young age, Mr. Evans would enjoy this entertainment. However, when I looked back, things were not at all right with the young man. His eyes seemed oddly unfocused.

"Are you alright back there?" He nodded, clenching his eyes tight. My eyes were drawn to the napkin clenched in death grip in his right hand. Was rock music that truly painful to him? And then the strobe lights began, and I once again drew my attention away from him. Christopher Winter, the main singer, looking almost surreal in the flashing white light. The whole thing felt like a dream.

For the final time that night, I glanced back at Mr. Evans to see if he was enjoying the show as much as I. But he was no longer there! After a bit of inspection around the table, I at last looked to the ground. My heart came a standstill.

* * *

_Yah, so this chapter covered alot of time, yipes! Please **R&R** and tell me what y'all think!_


	3. Chapter 3: A Sin

_I've discovered what my two favorite things to write about are; people with special conditions (diseases, sickness, etc)—and putting the main character through an ordeal, haha._

_Sorry it took me so long to post:: I was mad at myself, because the seizure in California was supposed to be the climax of the story, and it's the third chapter…so I had to develop the plot a bit. But I think it's still going to be a _fairly _short story. So here's the product of Louisa completely avoiding cleaning her REALLY messy room and typing on her precious laptop (which doesn't have internet…so I sneak movies and games up on here—but it's mostly just my center for typing stories without having people read over my shoulder and hogging the downstairs computer) But I am rambling again. __**R&R!  
**_

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**I PRAISED SHARPAY **Evans for the first and probably last time in my life for prying so much into Ryan's life. She contacted the only agent she knew _he_ knew of and through him discovered the very address of the restaurant our runaway was in.

We had flown all the way down to San Francisco in our chase of Ryan; it was easy to track his travel plans, as he had used his father's credit card. Relief coursed through my veins when we seated ourselves in the cab headed towards the Fiery Phoenix. I thought of the dancer safely back home; when this whole nightmare would be over—and hopefully by then I would be master of my mind again.

But relief was the last thing on my mind when I entered the restaurant itself. Right as I walked up to the waiter to ask if a "Mr. Ryan Evans" was at a table, a loud outcry arouse from the proximity close to the stage where a rock band was suddenly hushed. People began standing up to see what the commotion was and a gasp could be heard from most of those who saw. Not hesitating for a second, Sharpay and I bolted through the passageway in between the tables and reached the panicking business man. What lay at his feet froze my heart, mind, and anything that lay in between.

Ryan Evans—sweet, adorable, queer drama king and dance master Ryan Evans—lay sprawled on the ground, only the whites of his eyes showing. Spittle leaked from his mouth and his entire frame jerked left and right, convulsing uncontrollably. It was as if he had no control over his body anymore.

Sharpay screeched ten times louder than was necessary. "Oh god no. God no. Not now, not now"

"Shar, what's wrong with him?!" I said before realizing I was screaming. "W-what's he doing??"

"He's having a seizure!" she whimpered, dropping to the ground next to him, trying to hold down his flailing limbs. "It must have been the goddamn—" it was a good thing her mother wasn't here to hear her say the words that followed, "—strobe lights!" Gabriella, Taylor, and Chad at last appeared behind us. Gabriella squeaked pitifully and clutched Taylor for support at the sight of a fellow high schooler in the middle of a full-blown seizure. Who can blame her?

The rest of the evening is very foggy in my memory. I vaguely remember hearing the sounds of sirens, and eventually doctors rushed in. They were not at all happy about being called for such a "small thing as a seizure"; evidently, this wasn't a big deal. Sorry, he was writhing all over the floor with his eyes rolled back in his head. Our bad. They gave us a few tips and briefly talked with Sharpay. She was taking the whole situation fairly well, considering everything; unlike a certain jock. Yours-truly sort of freaked out and knelt next to Ryan, constantly asking Sharpay if he was going to be alright. I think I cried quite a bit—that probably weirded out Gabbi, but I took no notice of it. Ryan had stopped thrashing now, but lay as still as a corpse, his entire backbone stiff. I guess you could say that I wasn't terribly calmed.

"OH MY GOD HE'S DEAD"

"Troy, calm down, I can explain why this-"

"HE DIED! HOLY F-"

"Heya, there are little kids in this restaurant!"

"JESUS CHRIST, HE DIED! AND IT'S ALL HIS FAULT!" I pointed towards the poor, distressed, confused business man wringing his hands before me.

"I didn't do anything! I encouraged him to stay and watch the band perform, that's all! But he just went nuts during the light show, I have no idea what went wrong!"

"YOU LIAR!" I bellowed rather rudely, now that I think about it, but I wasn't really thinking straight at the time, as you must have gathered.

"Troy, calm down and be quiet"

"DON'T TELL ME TO BE QUIET, SHARPAY. YOU'RE TWIN JUST DIED"

"He's not dead, he'll be fine in a few minutes-"

"AND THIS MAN KILLED HIM!"

"No, I've told you, I had nothing to do with this!"

"Troy, seriously, be quiet and listen"

"YOU LISTEN TO ME!"

"**No, you listen to ME**"

"**RYAN DIED FOR GOD'S SAKE**!"

"**TROY; SHUT THE HELL UP!!!!!**" At last the words sunk into my head, and I followed Sharpay's advice and shut my trap. "Geez, it took you long enough." Don't rub it in. "Ryan's going to be fine. He'll be up and dandy—though a bit shaky and dead tired—in less than five minutes. If you all will help me carry him into the taxi, I will tell you guys the truth once we are on our way to the airport."

It's amazing what a good scare will do to people who hate each other. Chad and Taylor almost tripped in their haste to help carry Ryan to the car.

"Ryan has epilepsy," Sharpay finally stated. Gabriella and Taylor were the only ones who gasped—they were the only ones who knew what that meant.

"Epihuh?" Chad asked, speaking for us less smart ones.

"Epilepsy. It's a condition where you have seizures commonly if you do not take your meds—the one thing this stupid fool forgot to take with him on his escape. I guess he was really freaked out or something." Sharpay shrugged. "Anyways, the downfall of anyone with epilepsy is strobe-lights. It just triggers something in your brain—I don't know all the details, the nurse used big words—which causes your body to pretty much shut down; basically, you have a seizure. They usually only last at very most about five minutes. Ryan's are normally three"

A groan from the other side of the cab made as all jump. Ryan's body at last relaxed and he massaged his forehead with his fingers.

"How're you feeling?" I asked him timidly, hoping he would not remind me of my unkind remarks the previous night.

"Like shit," he said bluntly, making me blink it surprise. Ryan cussed? "I'm sore and achy all over…where's Shar?"

"Right here, dummy," she answered, moving to sit next to him. I stared at her, but she gave me a look that clearly said "I'll tell you later." "You had a seizure back in the restaurant because of the light show. Damn it, Ry, why didn't you leave when the band first started playing?"

"I didn't want to explain it to the guy and it might have cost me my job"

"Kid, you've scared that guy so badly…I think it's pretty safe to say you blew that job interview. At any rate, we're taking you home"

"We?"

"Me, Chad, Taylor, Gabriella, Troy; the whole gang was worried about you"

He snorted in disbelief. "I bet they were." I felt like crying. He had **no** idea how my heart felt seeing him having a seizure. Not an experience I wanted to have ever again.

"We were!" Taylor insisted, at last getting up the courage to speak. "And are"

But I knew better. I knew that in about a week's time, the gang would be back to bashing Ryan as much as always and treating him just as rudely. But one thing would be different; I would not be joining them. I was done with making fun of gay guys, seeing as my own interests had taken a turn. I was willing to accept that I was homosexual, or maybe even bisexual. I just wanted to hold his precious frame in my hands, my heart screaming with joy that he was alright.

Sharpay helped Ryan up into a seating position so he could swallow his meds (with the help of a water bottle). She happened to glance my way and saw me staring at her twin. I quickly averted my eyes, but knowing that I would be interrogated later.

**IT HAD BEEN** two weeks since Ryan had run away. I knew Troy had been tactfully avoiding Sharpay, but I had no idea why. Other that, nothing much had happened.

Which was exactly what drove me nuts. Troy had been completely ignoring me ever since we chased Ryan all the way to California! He almost never called me, never texted me, never even _tried_ to hang out with me! What had gotten into him? Was it me? Had his affections changed? If so, why didn't he just tell me??

Maybe he liked Sharpay, and that's why he was avoiding her. I really didn't know. She was pretty and all…but she and Troy seemed to hate each other so! It couldn't be her…then who?

What made it all ten times worse was my mother; she was always pestering me what had ever become of Troy; why she never saw him anymore. One day my frustration came to the point where I stormed out in the middle of one of our arguments. I knew deep down that it wasn't a big deal, but it was just the "straw to break my camel's back", as Darbus would have put it.

My feet led me our local park. The soft green light seeping down from foliage of trees relaxed me, and I breathed the earthy smell in deeply. This was more like it. Everything was going wonderfully until I walked headlong into some random kid and was sent sprawling onto the ground.

"Oh, sorry." I looked up, surprised. It was Ryan!

On a normal day basis, I would have wrinkled my nose in disgust and stormed off, leaving him in the dust. But instead, I took the hand he offered me and he pulled me to my feet. "I didn't see you there, sorry. I was just…zoning, I guess," he apologized in a tone quite different than he usually addressed me. It was a nice change.

"Hey Ryan," I greeted him, a smile breaking across my face. "You feeling better?" It was an honest question.

"Yah"

"Are you able to drive yet?" I asked, remembering somewhere in the back of my memory that your license was suspended a little while after having a seizure.

"No, but it doesn't matter; I walk everywhere anyways. My family always insists that I get in as much exercise as I can in one day"

"Don't you already dance a lot?" We were walking side by side now, just as if we did this on a normal basis. It was so weird…but it didn't feel weird. It felt good, just talking to someone without hate, distrust, or flirtatious advances.

"I do have long lessons, but I also run in early morning and late afternoon…plus I walk everywhere"

"Really?" I was honestly surprised by this. Ryan, the queer drama dancing king, didn't seem much like a runner. "Do you ever time yourself?"

"Yah"

"What's your lowest time?"

"9:48 for two miles"

I gawked at him. "Ryan, that's **ridiculously** fast!!"

"And you would know this…how?" I blushed, seeing why he would think this.

"Back at my old school, I did a bit of track myself"

"What did you do?"

"Long jump, high jump, and sprints. Don't ask me my times; they were terrible." He chuckled softly.

"I doubt that"

What was happening? Why was Ryan Evans being suddenly so sweet and understanding? Wasn't he the 'fag' that we all made fun of on a daily basis? But then, wasn't I normally rude to him...

I looked at him straight in the eye. I felt like I might drown in the shocking blueness of his eyes—and then he smiled. I did not remember he smile being that cute. He rubbed his left arm with his right hand awkwardly, and pink tinged his cheeks at my stair. Feeling myself also blush, I withdrew my analysis. Conclusion: Ryan Evans was very attractive, gay or no. But then, what was it that Taylor had said so long ago? "They are only two types of gay guys: the hot ones, and the ugly ones. There is no in-between." If she was at all accurate, there was no doubt in my mind on which side Ryan lay.

We chatted lightly for another hour without realizing we had walked the entire length of the park several times.

"Mind if we sit down?" I asked, giggling. "I'm not as fit as you; my feet hurt"

"Sure." We sat down underneath a large tree around the center of the park.

"Gosh I'm hungry." I suddenly said, my stomach gurgling.

"Want me to go get you an ice cream cone or something?" he offered. I smiled at him.

"Sure…but I don't have any money"

"It's alright; I'll treat." I blinked in surprise. This was _completely_ unlike Ryan; he never treated anyone to anything unless it was his twin forcing him to. This was an entire new set of thought crossing my mind.

"You really don't have to-" I insisted.

"No, really; I have more than enough money that I never use." And he was gone. I leaned back against the tree and closed by eyes. Troy and I had never done anything this fun…or had a chat so simple and fun. All we ever talked about was people at school and drama…Ryan and I had managed to cover track, basketball, academics, and the mall. He did have good taste in clothing, so I made sure to listen hard.

"Here." He handed me a Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream cone.

"How did you know that was my favorite??" I gasped in surprise. He shrugged and licked his own chocolate cone with sprinkles.

"You just kind of seemed like a mint chocolate chip person"

"Oh really?" I laughed. "Then you have a theory about things?"

"I certainly do," he grinned cockily. "You are mint chocolate chip because you are very sweet and most everybody likes you—but you still can kick back. That's where the chips come in. I am chocolate because I am fairly simple once you get to know me…but nobody really bothers to because I seem so common." I blushed. "Sharpay is coffee because you either hate her or love her"

"And she's full of caffeine," I giggled.

"Very true," he agreed, and leaned back against the tree next to me. "You're catching on."

I curled my hair about my finger and threw back my head dramatically. "Well, but of course; because I'm just amazing like that"

"I know." I stopped joking around and looked at him, my ears burning.

"W-what?"

"I know you're amazing. You don't have to tell me"

"I was just kidding," I said, trying to joke off the situation.

"I wasn't," he said honestly, wiping his sticky fingers off on a napkin, and smiled at me. I had long ago finished my cone.

"You don't have to say that"

"I know that too"

I was back to staring into his eyes, which suddenly became about ten times bigger. I had leaned over and kissed _Ryan Evans_ full on the lips before I had formed any idea what I was doing. I could feel him stiffen underneath me—he was gay after all. He was gay; then why the hell was I kissing him…and why was he kissing me back?!

One thing was certain; I had gone crazy and Ryan was a damn good kisser. Having lost complete control over my body, my tongue brushed against his lips, asking politely for an entrance. WHAT THE HELL WAS I DOING, I WAS CURRENTLY DATING TROY AND HAD NEVER FRENCH KISSED HIM! Ryan's mouth opened, allowing the entrance to my tongue. I shivered with sinful delight as my tongue brushed against his.

I clung to him with a strong feeling of being cheated all this while—Troy had never kissed me like this…like I needed Ryan's affection more than anything else in the world right now. I knew it wouldn't last, but I knew we both needed each other right then. Next thing I knew, Ryan and I were fully making-out underneath the tree. I also knew that what we were doing was wrong in every possible way…but I could've cared less and I explored Ryan's hot mouth with mine.

* * *

_Don't worry; it's still a Tryan!!! This isn't going to be a Ryella, stop freaking._

_The reason I was inspired to write this story was after my own best friend, who has epilepsy, had a seizure during a Transiberian Orchestra concert (they always have the coolest light shows). It was a __very__ scary experience, but he was alright._

_Most recently, we were at a party and swimming in the hot tub. My friend became really stiff and began to shake. He's such a class clown we thought he was fooling around when he tipped over headfirst into the hot tub (we thought he was trying to do a headstand). After he didn't come up for awhile, we had my other friend Jon tug on his hair to see if he would respond; he didn't. So we yanked him out to discover that he wasn't breathing. Of course, we called 911. When the ambulance got there, they told us that we really didn't need to call them. We were like "umm, sorry, he kinda wasn't breathing; we freaked". AKA, why this chapter is this way. _


	4. Chapter 4: Used

_Thank you** hundredandthree-xo**, Baby Glover, **TheNinaBob**, and **Sakurabound** for the reviews!!!! I appreciate it so much!!!_

**I LURCHED **around the corner, feeling sick to my stomach. I couldn't believe what I had just witnessed; Gabriella making-out with Ryan Evans. My girlfriend was cheating on me…with a gay guy!!!

I couldn't decide which thing I was more mad about; my girlfriend cheating on me, the fact that the guy she was cheating on me with was gay, the fact that the guy she kissed was extremely hot and I had never gotten to kiss him…or that Ryan seemed to be kissing her back. What the hell did this mean? Was Ryan bi, or maybe even straight? What had I ever done to Gabriella to make her unhappy about our relationship?

Actually, I had been fairly neglectful of her the past few weeks…but that didn't give the right make out with the guy I had been crushing on!! But she didn't know I'd been crushing on him. GOD, why did this have to be so confusing?!

Sweaty and shaking, I relaxed against a brick wall and weakly dialed the only person's number I could think of.

"Hey, Chad? It's Troy"

"Hey man, what's up?"

"Dude, Gabriella's cheating on me!"

"No way! With who??"

"Ryan Evans!!" A long silence on the other end.

"You're kidding, right? Ryan's gay!"

"That's what I thought too…but maybe he's bi, I dunno. But I can't believe she's cheating on me! How long do you suppose this has been going on??"

"I have no idea, man. I have no idea"

I groaned and closed my eyes, taking a shuddery breath. "I just…can't believe it. I saw her and Ryan making-out-"

"**What**?"

"Yah, they were totally going at each other's faces when I saw them. I don't think either of them saw me…but what am I going to do??" Another long pause. "This whole thing is looking helpless, I have no idea how-"

"Wait!" Chad's voice sounded excited, and I knew something good was coming. "I have a plan…"

I double-checked my image in the hall mirror. Slightly baggy jeans, freshly showered, nice blue t-shirt, casual brown jacket—Troy Bolton was ready to rock and role. Winking at myself in the mirror, I climbed into my car and drove to the park. If Chad was correct, Ryan should be running by any moment—aha! And there he was, right on schedule. In basketball shorts, a form-fitting white shirt, and white sneakers, Ryan was unquestionably in the middle of a late evening jog. Checking my hair in the rearview mirror one last time, I climbed smoothly out of the car.

"Hey, Ryan!" He slowed down and saw me leaning against my new car.

"Hi, Troy," he said warily, suspecting something. Well, in all proper circumstances he should, and this was no exception—but I was on a mission. _**A/E: **__Haha, "I'm on a mission"…if any of y'all have seen "The Freshman", I couldn't help but giggle when I wrote this past phrase…I'm such a loser)_

"Can you come over here for a minute?" I asked in the sexiest voice I could muster, brushing my hair out of my eyes; Gabbi had told me endless times how hot that was.

"I have to be home pretty soon," Ryan warned, but walked over anyways. I inwardly rejoiced to see his eyes briefly checking me out. More than one victory won there.

"I just wanted to apologize for…for treating you like shit," I said, suddenly realizing how much I meant this statement. I really did for horrible about the past. "I realized back in California that you really aren't that bad, and all this gay-prejudice stuff is really retarded." He didn't say anything; just looked at me, considering—like he was sizing me up. I guess it was to see if he could trust me. "So we cool?"

"Yah…" he said finally, and relief washed over me. "Sure. We're cool"

"Do you want a ride home?" I offered. He shook his head.

"No, I'm fine thanks, I was in the middle of a run—"

"Cummon, I'm driving past your house anyways. It's the least I could do to make up years of being an ass." Just take up the offer, damn it!

"Well, since you're on your way." Ryan slid into the passenger seat, still looking very guarded. Man did he look _fine_ in the street light. But then, when did he not look gorgeous?

How did gay guys pick up other guys? I was completely unknowing when it came to gay pick-up lines. I could easily pick up girls, but guys…not so much. _Hey, are you wearing moon pants, 'cause your ass is out of this world!_ True as that statement was, it was incredibly lame. _Is there a mirror in your pocket, 'cause I can totally see me in your pants!_ Also very true, this one was slightly more modern and perverted…it just might work! I only worked up the courage to say it right outside of Chad's house—which was where I wanted to be, anyways. I could see by a light seeping through the front window that the whole gang was there. Perfect. I parked right outside the home.

"Hey, Ry?" He raised an eyebrow at the nickname. "Is there a mirror in your pocket, 'cause…err…"

"Because why?" he chuckled, obviously amused at my attempt.

"Because…I mean…never mind"

"Are you trying to hit on me, Troy?" Damn did my name sound ten times sexier rolling off his tongue.

"Maybe," I admitted, blushed. "Is it working?" Ryan pondered the question.

"A little," he laughed. Earlier than I had planned, I leaned over closer to his face, stopping an inch away from his lips; waiting for him to finish the final distance. To my overwhelming joy, he completed it, and our lips joined in a kiss.

It was as if electricity had shot through my body. The moment our mouths had touched, it was as if my mind was not capable of any other thought other than about Ryan. His very presence was enchanting and captivating—like a strong drug you are addicted too. One kiss wasn't enough. I wanted **all **of him. Everything. I pressed into the kiss, almost to the point of bruising our lips; but I think neither of us cared. Ryan was pressed against the car seat, with me on top of him. At the exact same time, both of our mouths opened and we began to French. I had not planned this…but wasn't complaining, either. I could now see why one kiss might have turned into a make-out session with Gabriella; Ryan was an extremely good kisser. For a boy, that was. Well, I had never kissed a boy before, and only a few girls; but he was the best experience up to date. If Gabbi based dating off of kisses, I was a goner for sure. At any rate, I was committing the exact same crime my girlfriend had committed earlier that day; cheating by Frenching a really hot gay guy named Ryan Evans.

All too soon for me, I heard the front door bang open. Couldn't Chad have waited just a few more minutes? I heard a collective gasp as light from the house fell upon my car. I painfully shoved myself away; feigning horror at the sight of Gabriella's shocked face. "No, Gabbi, I can explain-"

"**Explain what?**" she hollered. "You're a cheater, Troy Bolton! You're a lying scum and I hate you! Stay away from me and don't let me interrupt your make-out session with the school fag!" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ryan wince. They must've gotten along great this afternoon. My stomach lurched again at the full impact at what I'd just done. "Go on, have your fun, you bastard!!" she screamed, storming back inside the house. Chad raised an eyebrow at me, and motioned me to come inside.

Now was the time of choice. I glanced down at Ryan. There was great confusion in his eyes. I quickly looked away, hoping he would not see the guilt that lay in mine. What I had just done had started out as a conspiracy…but now I meant it with every hormone inside me. I glanced over at Chad, and back at Ryan. Confusion was now replaced by very deep hurt. I just couldn't do this to Ryan. Not again.

As a matter of fact, I didn't have to do anything.

"You used me…" Ryan whispered brokenly, and to my dismay I saw tears forming around the edges of his eyes. Not now, please don't cry. Anything but cry. "You used me to get back at your girlfriend??"

"No, Ryan, please, just let me explain-"

"EXPLAIN WHAT!" he exploded, throwing me forcefully back into the driver's seat. "THAT YOU USED MY OWN FEELINGS AGAINST ME? USED THE FUCKING SCHOOL FAG TO GET YOUR STUPID LITTLE REVENGE!" I could feel tears clouding my eyes.

"God, Ryan, please, just listen-"

"YOU KNOW WHAT, I WON'T! I'M SICK OF HAVING TO SUBMIT TO EVERYONE! YOU CAN ALL JUST GO TO HELL! YOU HEAR ME?" he bellowed even louder so that Chad, who was still in the doorway, could hear as Ryan climbed out of my car. "**YOU CAN ALL JUST GO TO HELL AND FUCKING BURN THERE!**" I openly began to cry as he tore down the street full speed, obviously heading back to his house.

"T-Troy?" I heard Chad ask timidly from behind me, placing a fearful hand on my shoulder. Probably freaking him out even more, I broke down bawling, burying my face in my arms.

"I gasp such hiccup a goddamn loser," I moaned, trying desperately to stop the flow of tears down my face.

"Troy, it's fine, it all went as planned-"

"**No it didn't**," I said in a hateful voice that surprised even myself. "**It wasn't planned that I would actually enjoy it and let my feeling for Ryan take over!**"

"WHAT?" I realized that we were not alone in front of the house, but I really didn't care anymore.

"**I****LOVE RYAN EVANS, IS THAT SUCH A PROBLEM?!**" I screeched at them, tears streaming down my face. "What's so wrong with falling in love with someone?"

"Why didn't you just tell us that you had turned gay..." Chad murmured, shoving his hands awkwardly into his pockets. "We wouldn't have made you go through that-"

"It doesn't matter anymore," I groaned, wiping my eyes with my jacket sleeve. "He hates my guts, you heard him. I can't blame him…but I'm such a loser! Why did I have to fall in love with the hardest person to get?"

"Troy?" I raised my head to stare in surprise at the very person who I had just gotten my revenge against. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I-I don't know," I confessed. "I just figured you would me really mad"

"I'm a million times madder that you just cheated on me!"

"It's just that I saw you and Ryan going at it under the tree this afternoon." Her eyes widened.

"The only reason I did that was because I missed the attention you used to give me. Not to mention that Ryan is a terrific kisser…"

"I noticed," I grumbled, sniffing loudly. Gabbi's eyes rested upon me in a pitying stare.

"Hey look; we've both gotten rid of excess hormones and emotions. Even?"

"Yah," I said, relieved, shaking her outstretched hand. "But I still can't date you"

"I wasn't expecting you to," she laughed. "I think it's all for the best that we are just honest friends"

"Thanks"

"But what are we going to do now?" Sharpay asked. I jumped; I hadn't known the demon lady was here. "Oh, chill, Troy; I won't give you the talking—your actions spoke louder than your words ever will." I let out a loud sigh, reassured that I wasn't going to be skinned alive. "But before my emo twin goes and jumps off a cliff, we need to do something"

For what seemed like the billionth time that day, there was a long pause.

"I have an idea!" Chad suddenly burst, looking very excited, yet again.

"Oh no you don't," I scolded. "I'm through with your lame ideas, Mister"

"Don't be stupid; this one's a lot better than the old one. And I'm pretty dang sure that there is no way it will fail"

"I'm listening," I sighed, and everybody found a seat around Chad; poised and ready for action.

_Sorry it took so long for me to post, and sorry it's so short! Only one chapter remaining, so __**R&R pretty please!**_


	5. Chapter 5: Open Mouthed

_Why do I love to write such short last chapters??? I really have no idea. Sorry it took me so long to finish this dad-gum story, I just couldn't decide exactly how to write the ending; I actually tried not to make this one too cheesy (and probably failed miserably, but oh well). Enjoy this last chapter (: _

**I HAD NOT **emerged from my room since I had looked myself in the night before. I didn't want to talk or see anyone in the world currently, and not a soul was going to change my mind. Gabriella had used me to get her affection for the day, and Troy had used me to get back at Gabriella for using me to get her affection since he was too much of a wimp to give it to her himself.

Sharpay seemed to have read my mind and stolen all of the point or sharp objects in my room. That girl really knew how to piss me off.

At about three in the afternoon, she pounded on my door. I could tell it was her merely by her knock; my parents always knocked, and Shar never did.

"Ryan Michael Evans, get your pathetic self out here this minute!" I refused to answer, and buried myself deeper into my bed. My laziness and depressing mood was enough to convince me that today was not I day I would change out of my pajamas or even climb out of bed. But my bratty twin continued her barrage.

"Bug off, Shar," I finally groaned, slamming my pillow over my ears. "I'm trying to sleep"

"Yah, you're trying to sleep just as much as you hate Troy Bolton." I sent her a stabbing stare through the door. Did she never stop? He was the very **last **person I wanted to think about. "Get up, lazy butt; we are going to a party today, so you might as well come on out"

"And what if I don't want to go to some shit party?"

I had pushed her too far. "If you do not get your small gay ass out here in ten minutes I will guarantee you that you shall never ever reproduce!" I shuddered. Most other guys wouldn't have shuddered—but they didn't live with Sharpay. When she threatened you, she was dead serious.

"Fine, damn it, I'll be out in a minute!"

"You'd better, or kiss your balls goodbye!" I heard her stomping down the hallway, muttering a blue streak under her breath.

Neither of us were in a better mood when Sharpay rung the doorbell at Chad's house. I didn't speak to anyone the entire evening and stayed by my sister as much as I possibly could.

**CHAD SUGGESTED** at about two in the morning that we go for a walk and goof at the park. All approved, and the party made their way down the urban neighborhood. As our group walked through a particularly tight spot in the overgrown foliage, I felt myself shoved against Ryan and we both fell down together onto the grass on the other side. Groaning slightly, my eyes popped open to discover than I had landed on top of him and was now staring into Ryan's gorgeous eyes. Subconsciously, in my brain I removed Ryan's shirt, shoes, socks, pants, boxers…

Rolling hurriedly away, the he pushed himself to his feet and brushed the grass off of his clothing, me following suit. The rest of the party had disappeared.

"Sharpay?" Ryan called out, looking around. "Shar, cut it out, it's not going to work"

"Ry?" I said softly. I saw him whirl around and glare at me.

"Did you help plan this??"

"No," I protested feebly. "I didn't come up with it; Chad did." Hell, what was the point of lying? Had they honestly thought that Ryan would not catch on to us? "All they knew was that I wanted to talk to you"

Ryan sat Indian-style on the grass and looked impatiently up at me. "Make it quick"

"I just..." Jesus Christ why did this have to be so hard? "I just wanted to apologize…for yesterday"

"Forget it, it's no big deal." But I knew that he was lying. Somehow, I just knew, though nothing in the steeliness of his voice agreed with me.

"But I can't! At the beginning, it was all about getting back at Gabriella. But then…" Ryan finally looked at me in the eye. That was a start. "I realized I wasn't acting anymore." I realized with a jolt that I had taken Ryan's hand in mine. CRAP! And then I saw that he hadn't pulled away. This was a good sign! POINTS FOR TROY! "I **wanted** to be in that car kissing you…" Great, now I couldn't think of anything to say; brain blank. "And I realized then that I liked you…a lot. Like, more than friend like…like-"

"One of these days, Troy Bolton," Ryan interrupted, and I was immediately crestfallen; it was all over now, "you will have to learn how to put your open mouth to proper use." Huh?

My question was answered when Ryan yanked me over to him and kissed me full on the lips. I heard giggling in the bushes that I recognized as my ex-girlfriend, but really could have cared less. All I cared about at the moment was the fact that was French kissing a very, very hot boy in the middle of a park in the middle of the night…and he was kissing me back.

When we broke for air, I mumbled in his ear, "Did it work this time?"

He giggled.

"I should say so. Now stop talking and get back in here." Placing a firm hand behind my head he pulled my open mouth down to his again.

The stampings and congratulations from the gang—who had, of course, been hiding in the bushes all along—found themselves utterly ignored as I refused to stop kissing Ryan. I had waited long enough for this that I wasn't about to give him up so soon.

Later that morning, all of us were still strolling through the park, only with one major difference; I had my right arm around Ryan's waist and was clasping his left hand with my right. Leaning against my shoulder as the others babbled on, I heard him whisper,

"What do you say we ditch these losers in a little while and go find some nice, secluded corner?" Ryan winked at me, making my heart melt as it had so many times before. Only this time, I was actually free to passionately kiss him on the lips (rather than just dream about it).

"Whatever you say, Babe"

How long had I felt this way? How long had I desired to go walking with the dream drama king of my school—the boy who always wore the weird clothes and crazy hats, the boy with the really cute behind—in the moonlight and playfully tickle him and hold him close? How long had Ryan Evans unknowingly runaway with my feelings?

It's never the same thing every day. There's no pattern to the way I live; no school to stress over, nobody to order us around, and no one to stop me from going to bed…with Ryan, of course. End of story, the end. I can honestly say I'll never get sick of it.

_**So how did you enjoy the whole story??? Disappointing Ending? Plleeeeasseee tell me (I never beg, what are you talking about…), I really want to know (: Thanks for reading and keep an eye out for updates on my other stories and posts of new ones!!  
**_


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